Liu Qingsong's face twisted with rage. "Kid, you've got some nerve messing with us!"
If looks could kill, Lin Fan would've been torn to shreds.
Lin Fan shrugged, unfazed. "Mess with you? I'm the one who called them. Got a problem with that?"
The trio—Liu Qingsong, Ning Feipeng, and Li Tianhua—were speechless, their faces sour as if they'd swallowed something vile.
The Qinglong Gang members started to fidget, unease creeping in.
The bearded leader leaned close to Liu Qingsong, whispering nervously, "Young Leader… are we still going through with this?"
Liu Qingsong slapped him hard across the face, snarling, "Go through with what? You see the Supervisory Bureau here, don't you?"
"You trying to get us locked up?"
"Scram, now!"
The bearded man didn't dare argue. He nodded meekly, turned, and waved his crew back into the vans. They peeled out, leaving the scene in a hurry.
Shanghai was a city of contrasts—where light thrived, darkness lingered. Some things couldn't be fully stamped out.
The Supervisory Bureau knew about groups like the Qinglong Gang but often turned a blind eye. These forces weren't just street thugs; they were tied to complex networks, woven into the city's underbelly.
Taking them down could spark chaos, even bloodshed, so both sides maintained an unspoken truce. The gangs kept their antics low-key, and the authorities didn't push too hard.
It wasn't all bad, though—some factions even worked with the Supervisory Bureau, blurring the lines between friend and foe.
Moments after the Qinglong Gang fled, three armed Supervisory Bureau vehicles rolled up.
A dozen fully armed officers, weapons in hand, stepped out, led by a stern-faced middle-aged man with a buzz cut. His uniform and sharp demeanor screamed competence.
This was Fang Wanshan, Captain of the Supervisory Bureau in Shanghai's Fukang District.
In a city with countless districts, being a captain wasn't a job for just anyone.
Fang Wanshan scanned the scene, piecing things together quickly. Then he called out, "Who's Lin Fan, the caller?"
Lin Fan stepped forward, flashing a grin and waving. "That's me!"
Fang Wanshan gave him a once-over, nodded, and asked, "Where are the people you reported?"
Lin Fan pointed at Liu Qingsong and his two cronies. "They're right there."
The trio's expressions shifted, clearly unhappy.
Liu Qingsong forced a smile and approached Fang Wanshan. "Captain Fang, long time no see."
In Fukang District, Liu Qingsong was used to throwing his weight around. He'd caused trouble plenty of times, and Fang Wanshan was usually the one cleaning up his messes. They were, in a way, old acquaintances.
Fang Wansshan glanced at him, his tone flat. "Oh, you again."
"I warned you last time, and here you are, stirring up trouble again?"
"Starting fights in public now?"
Liu Qingsong's face paled, and he scrambled to explain. "Captain Fang, it's a misunderstanding! We're good citizens, just messing around."
He shot Lin Fan a pointed look, as if saying, *Back me up, or you're dead.*
But Lin Fan wasn't playing along. He turned to Fang Wanshan, blunt as ever. "Captain, he's lying through his teeth."
"This guy tried to steal my girlfriend and attacked me when he didn't get his way."
"That's a serious crime. He deserves jail time."
Liu Qingsong nearly choked with fury.
He opened his mouth to argue, but Fang Wanshan cut him off. "We're old acquaintances, Liu. I know exactly what kind of person you are."
"If the law allowed it, I'd lock you up myself."
With a wave, he ordered his men to cuff Liu Qingsong, Ning Feipeng, and Li Tianhua and haul them away.
As he was dragged off, Liu Qingsong glared at Lin Fan, his voice dripping with venom. "You're done, kid. This isn't over!"
"As long as you're in Fukang District, the Qinglong Gang will make you pay!"
Two officers shoved him into a car.
Fang Wanshan turned to the crowd. "Alright, everyone, disperse."
Then he looked at Lin Fan. "You'll need to come with us for a statement, but don't worry—it's just routine. You're not in trouble."
Lin Fan nodded, understanding the process.
He and Xiao Rou climbed into one of the vehicles.
In the car, Lin Fan glanced at Fang Wanshan. "Captain, you know those three are bad news. Why not lock them up for good?"
Fang Wanshan leaned against the window, his expression heavy. "Trust me, I'd love to. But they're careful, always staying just within the lines. I can't pin anything solid on them."
"We can't just slap charges on people without evidence."
"Shanghai's a complicated place. The forces here are tangled up in ways you can't imagine. It's not something a small captain like me can unravel."
He handed Lin Fan a business card with his name and number. "Take this. You've pissed off those three, and they won't let it go. They'll probably be out soon after some paperwork."
"If you run into trouble, call me. And lay low for a while—be careful."
Lin Fan pocketed the card and nodded.
Shanghai's web of power was indeed messy, beyond his control for now.
But he was confident. With time and opportunity, he'd rise to the top.
He had the System, after all. All he needed was a chance.
Half an hour later, Lin Fan and Xiao Rou left the Supervisory Bureau after giving their statements.
Liu Qingsong and his crew were still inside, likely tied up with formalities.
Xiao Rou looked worried. "Xiao Fan, are we really okay? What if they come after you when they're out? Maybe you should leave Fukang District for a bit."
Lin Fan shook his head, smiling. "It's just a small problem. I'm not sweating it."
He had the System, and his sights were set on the stars. A little gang like the Qinglong Gang wasn't going to scare him off.
If he ran now, how could he dream of greatness?
"Come on," he said, chuckling. "It's late. Let's get you home."
They waited half an hour for a cab, which only strengthened Lin Fan's resolve to buy a car.
But there was a hitch—he didn't have a driver's license yet. Life after the orphanage had been tough. He'd been grinding day and night just to survive, leaving no time or money to get one.
In a place like Shanghai, a license wasn't cheap.
…
Not long after they left, a fleet of Qinglong Gang vehicles rolled up in force, their engines roaring.